“What?” Lohen asks, his hot breath setting every nerve ending you have ablaze. “I thought you said it was too much.”
“Now it’s not enough,” you complain, your brows arching. “Fuck, just go back to what you were doing before.”
“Not gonna lie,” he answers, “I kinda like how desperate you look right now.”
You whimper. Pressing your eyes shut, your legs tuck around him harder.
“Why don’t you beg?” he asks hotly. “Huh, Princess?”
“Fuck,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”
“Ah, yeah. Thatta girl.”
“Please,” you continue to say, clawing his hair harder, digging your leglock into his skin. “Lohen, please. Please. Please—.”
When he obliges you, your voice raises an octave, devolving into sobs and whines.
Passage 2
He hears your feet running through the halls, and when your glowing face appears in the corridor, you’re grinning from ear to ear. You laugh as you propel yourself into him, tackling your arms around his neck with a girlish giggle.
His arms immediately encircle you. Against his ear, you say, “You’re finally back! I’ve been waiting for you!”
Shit, you feel like a warm blanket and smell like his body wash. His heart’s playing jumprope in his chest.
“You missed me?” he asks with a smile.
“Of course I did.”
You beam at him, your eyes twinkling with mirth. The halls around you sparkle, alive with your influence in his dwelling. Standing with him in the entryway, you look like a pretty housewife who’s over the moon that her husband’s come home safely.
To make matters even better, you kiss him. It’s a soft peck, the kind that makes his heart squeeze for you. Lohen’s laughing before he realizes it, pulling you in close for another one.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says.
“Hey, don’t praise me yet. You haven’t seen everything.” You wink at him. “Come on, I’ll show you the living room.”
You grasp his hand, pulling him along behind you like an overexcited puppy pulls at its owner’s leash. He envisions a sweet blue collar around your neck for only a second, distracting himself from the thought with the texture of your palm.
this is Chapter 4 teaser for my 16k fic A Good Bunny Stays in Her Pen. if you liked it, please consider reading the full! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ I plan to drop this full chapter on Wednesday July 8th at 7PM EST.
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Joel's putting those firefighter muscles to work! 🤭
You gasped as his arm slipped under your knees again, the world tilting when he lifted you clean off the couch.
“Joel!” you shrieked, clutching at his shoulder as your balance disappeared. “Put me down! I mean it!”
“Sure you do,” he said, utterly unfazed. His tone was maddeningly calm, like he was reading grocery labels instead of hauling someone across a flooded living room.
“Joel, I swear to God—”
He adjusted his hold, one arm braced under your thighs, the other loose by his side. One arm. One arm was all it took to carry you. The motion was effortless, steady, practiced. You hated that your body recognized the feel of him.
“Stop squirmin’,” he muttered. “You’ll make it worse.”
“I’ll make you worse—”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t even look at you. He just leaned over, grabbed your phone off the coffee table, then your house keys from the counter.
You scowled, clinging to his shoulder as he straightened. “You can’t just—what are you doing?”
“Leavin’ ‘fore you argue yourself into ‘nother injury,” he said dryly. “You need anythin’ else?”
“Yeah,” you bit out. “I need you to go eat shit.”
He hummed low in his throat at that—amused, not offended—as he carried you toward the door.
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got a lot going on this week with getting some dental work done and i'm not sure how much i'll be able to focus on writing as i recover from that sooooo here is the opening scene of the next chapter for y'all c:
word count: 800
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Joel stands at the counter he took the measurements for, cut the cabinets out of wood sheets and assembled with his bare hands, the matte gold hardware something he picked out because he knew it would match the set of the stain and pale sage paint you picked out with a happy little smile and a sparkle in your eye. His hands are spread wide atop the marble top, the faint patterns of color blending into one big dark spot to his unfocused eyes.
His mind is blank, well at least his consciousness is- the other part of his brain is firing away images and flashes of emotions too fleeting to really latch on and fill him. But the one thing he’s sure of, beyond a shadow of a doubt and despite how…violent it may reveal him to be capable of…
Joel will kill Micah on sight should he ever encounter the man.
The scars were enough of a reason, the implied assault, the actual assault- but to cause an accident in a busy intersection after stalking you through the city? Kidnapping you from your hospital room? Keeping you hostage in a hotel room with no access to anything unless you asked for it? Two whole days. For two whole days you were dealing with a nightmare and he had no idea.
He…he should’ve been there. This shouldn’t have happened.
And it wouldn’t have- if he had just been in a better mood when the two of you were shopping.
Joel is the one who left, walked away from you in a confusion of emotions. Left you vulnerable to the man neither of you had a clue was just around the corner. And that is enough guilt to send him into a spiral as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing.
His mind is just a mess of fleeting images despite the way he clenches his eyes tight against them, growling lowly to ward them off.
They finally fade when he carefully carries two steaming mugs back up the stairs and stands in the doorway to your room and sees you.
You’re sleeping peacefully, body cradled by the soft bedding and wrapped halfway in the plush microfiber blankets you prefer to the top sheet. Your body is on display in the most innocent, intimate way and for his eyes only. The bruising around your temple and one of your eyes lances anger through his chest but the little sigh you make as you shift a leg has him moving into the room with his own.
The mugs clink dully as he sets them on a bedside table, on the side closest to the door- the side he had taken root in as sleep lulled him still just hours ago. He sits there now, legs hung over the edge as he reaches to move the sheet up your body a bit more now that he can see the goosebumps that have sprouted along your arms.
You don’t deserve the things that happened to you- the power play that was enacted on you, the scars that you now bear on your skin. He’d kissed them and murmured how sorry he was into them, soothing them with the care he feels toward you- hoping to help heal them even just a little.
“Mmm, what’re you starin’ at?” You murmur in a slow, sleepy voice as your eyes flutter open for a beat, a yawn overtaking you something fierce.
“Somethin’ pretty.” His eyes melt, the brown of them simmering as they take in the way you stretch, the blanket he just pulled up over you shifting low to expose your chest to him. His eyes trail down to where your chest peaks at the cool air, the urge to lavish attention there strong and he feels himself harden beneath the fabric of his boxers.
“You gonna make good on your promise from last night, Mr. Miller?”
How could he not, even when you’re already awake and he’s got a surprise for you?
But he pauses, reaching for one of your hands and tangling his fingers with yours.
“Sweetheart, I really don’t want to push you or move too fast.” Joel’s brow furrows a little as his eyes turn almost puppy-like. The conflict in him obvious, though it’s nowhere near as intense as when the two of you were talking last night before the damn broke. A look that has your heart stuttering in your chest and you know will be your downfall should he pull it consciously on you.
“I don’t want to take advantage, I don’t want to-“
“Joel, honey,” You bring his hand up to your lips and press them over his knuckles. The thin skin of them scarred and slightly swollen. “I can guarantee you that if I have an issue with something you’ve done, I’m gonna let you know.”
“I just…with your husband-“ He starts, surely what is going to be a solid reasoning in his mind for his shift in willingness to be physical with you after so long and stolen moments that have built up until you both can’t help but reach for the other.
“Ex-husband.” You correct him gently, cupping his hand and resting your cheek there.
“She said that she was Dean's daughter.”
Sam didn’t say it lightly — and Eileen didn’t take it lightly.
But there it was: a manila folder, a name, and a bloodline.
Now the question was: What if it’s true?
hollow — lohen x reader, SFW/NSFW, a good bunny chapter 5 teaser
summary — you need him more than the air you breathe. why then, do you struggle to give all of yourself to him?
themes — developing relationship, codependency, first meeting teaser (ft. varka), drama teaser (with omitted sections), smut teaser (with omitted sections), smut and fluff and humor and angst per usual
WC: 681 out of 6.9k written (yeah...) | fic masterlist
Passage 1
“Ah, here comes one of the girls now,” Varka said, perking up instantly. “Hey there, Miss Bunny!”
“Hi Varka. And…?”
The booth seat crunched when you sat into it. Lohen continued to stare into his cider, completely ignoring you as he thought of the million other things he’d rather be doing. Screwing with the data files of yet another investigation sounded fun. Or maybe hunting with Theodore.
“He’s Lohen,” Varka said, his arm elbowing the aforementioned man. “Sorry, he’s, uh. Not the most social.”
“Oh…that’s okay. Neither am I, really. That’s why this job kinda blows.”
“Eh, you’re just slow to warm up to people. I think you’re a great hostess!”
“Ha…thanks. Oh, shit. I’m not supposed to tell customers I hate my job. Please don’t tell Rosaria.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, hon!”
Varka let out a roaring laugh. Lohen shot him an annoyed glare.
“What do you wanna drink tonight, eh, Bunny?”
You were silent for a moment. In a low mumble, you said, “That apple cider looks good.”
He gave you a curious glance. Your eyes were fixated on his glass, and when you realized he was staring at you, you sat upright with a start.
Badump. Badump.
Lohen reached for his chest. Furrowed his brows. Looked at you again.
“Champagne,” you said suddenly, your mouth moving lyrically with the syllables. “Champagne would be nice.”
You blinked your long eyelashes over your lustrous eyes, but he could see the tension in those arms of yours. And you kept looking at his drink too.
Lohen flinched when he heard Varka snort.
“You know what? I gotta use the restroom real quick.” He made obvious, overexaggerated winking gestures at Lohen. “You kids don’t have too much fun without me!”
Lohen hated Varka for bringing him here with a passion, but all of a sudden, he really didn’t want to be left alone. His fingers gripped his glass, cool and moist with condensation, as his eyes moved desperately between the bunny girl across from him and the main entrance.
How the hell do you talk to a girl?
Passage 2
“Don’t do that,” you croak. “I don’t care if it’s just a joke. I don’t want you to do that.”
“...Sorry,” he replies. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I don’t,” you gasp, your throat clenching like you’ve got a choker around it, “I don’t want to lose you.”
Lohen doesn’t answer. After a pause, his arms tighten even further around you.
“Please, Lohen,” you whimper, sniffling. “Tell me you’ll never do that again.”
“I…sorry,” he answers, pressing his lips to your face. “I’m sorry, Bun. I won’t do it again.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, heaving for breath as your lungs cry out in pain. “That scared me so much.”
“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, his hand stroking your back up and down. “I’m sorry, pretty girl. Please don’t cry.”
“You can’t do that,” you sputter, “and then tell me not to cry!”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I didn’t realize it would freak you out.”
“Lohen, use some common sense, please! Of all the people in the world to do that around, don’t do it around me!”
Passage 3 - NSFW
You’re staring at the shower tile as condensation beads on the surface. Tiny drops roll down the smooth grey walls, merging with bigger ones until they burst into thin streams. As your hands press into the hot tile, you feel Lohen behind you.
“...You sure?” he asks.
You’re tired of giving him nothing. How can you continue to insult him like this, when he always does his best to give you everything?
You purse your lips, swallowing back your trepidation. When his lips kiss your temple, wet hands grasping your hips all the while, you relax. Eventually, you nod at him.
He’s slow about it. Gentle. When his hips meet yours, your breath quivers into steam.
You look down, and when he lifts his palms to your breasts, you lean your head back and whimper.
“Bun,” Lohen whispers. “You wanna kiss?”
You’re nodding, and then his mouth is on yours.
a/n: to all my bunnies who enjoy this series, THANK YOU! im so excited to share chapter 5 as it is such a long, emotional, and significant one in this series. i hope you enjoyed the teaser, and know that i am planning to post the full chapter on 7/22, some time from 9-12AM EST!
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icymi! chai's last lohen post:
you've been bad, lohen nsfw oneshot (360 notes)
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Kinda long WIP but you guys should see how fucked Kaia actually is
“Oh?” she says, low. “Who’s this?”
You don’t speak immediately. You look down at Joel—barely a silhouette in the dim—his jaw slack, lashes wet. He looks so small when he sleeps, like every hard line is softened.
Your fingers find the place behind his ear, threading into a knot of hair you memorized.
“You know who.”
A pause, then a chuckle, which became a full-bellied laugh, like you had just told the funniest joke and a skit with it. She spoke between breaths.
“I-I have Sarah’s number now,” she says, triumphant. “She wants to see me. She wants what I have. You should be happy for her. Houston’s going to be perfect—”
There’s a picture forming in her words, ugly and precise: Kaia sliding back into Joel’s orbit like it was always owed to her. Sarah charmed into believing every polished lie. Raymond and Lorraine smiling politely until they don’t recognize their granddaughter anymore.
The neat, awful script of Kaia’s life being rewritten across everyone else’s.
You felt the anger organize itself into a plan behind your ribs.
When she paused for breath, you answered, slow. “Lucky.”
There was silence on the other end, until she spoke again.
“Lucky?”
“Yeah.” The word is a low thing. Quiet enough that you're sure she almost didn’t hear it. “You’re lucky, Kaia. Because Joel will be there.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.” You tighten your fingers in Joel’s hair without thinking—fingers in strands and scalp, feeling the steady warm skin beneath.
“You’re so fucking lucky, because I’m going to try to kill you, and Joel will be the only thing holding me back.”
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